


Problem Solving

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Lubrication, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m in heat,” Derek finally grits out.</p><p>Oh. Well that explains a lot. “What do you need?”</p><p>Derek looks up at him with big sad eyes. “Can I please fuck you?”</p><p>“Not with that thing,” Stiles blurts out.</p><p>Derek looks wounded, and yeah maybe Stiles could have been a little bit less blunt, but they’ve been talking about this and planning this out and Stiles is only on the second buttplug in his anal training kit and just...there’s no fucking way that he could take Derek’s regular not-crazy dick, let alone the (admittedly pretty hot) monstrosity he’s faced with now. He says as much to Derek, who seems to get it. Setting firm boundaries is important for relationships-- Stiles read that somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem Solving

**Author's Note:**

> let's be tumblr friends! [shortshortsmagneto.tumblr.com](http://shortshortsmagneto.tumblr.com)

“Special delivery,” Stiles calls out, dropping his lacrosse gear on the floor of Derek’s loft. “One hot sweaty Stiles fresh from practice, extra grass stains, extra BO!” He’s not surprised when Derek doesn’t greet him as much as show up in a shirtless blur and pin him to the sliding door, snuffling at his neck like Stiles is made of werewolf snausages. (These dudes and their smell thing, _honestly_.) Derek finally eases up on Stiles’ wrists and moves to kiss him on the mouth, deep and hungry, whining low in the back of his throat. Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders, gently massaging his fingertips into the tight muscle and hot skin. Unusually hot skin, actually. Stiles bumps his forehead against Derek’s and yeah he’s burning up.

“Do you have a fever? Why do you have a fever? How do you have a fever? Werewolves can’t get sick. Do I need to take you to see Deaton? Should I ca-”

Stiles is interrupted by Derek literally picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder like a goddamn caveman. Stiles is struck for a moment by the urge to play-fight and shout “unhand me you BRUTE” in a shitty accent, but that would have to wait for another day. Before Stiles can protest, Derek has dropped him onto the bed with a _thump_ and peeled off his lacrosse shorts and is nosing between the globes of Stiles’ ass.

Stiles says a silent prayer to the jockstrap gods for easy access, because FUCK. The thrill of Derek’s hot breath against his hole reverberates through Stiles’ whole body. And Derek’s tongue lapping at him, moaning blissfully at the earthy taste that is purely _Stiles_. Stiles chews on his lip as Derek eats him out, grinding his hips against his alpha boyfriend’s face and making appreciative sounds. When Derek’s mouth is replaced by the head of his cock, though, Stiles scrambles up the bed and turns around to look at Derek.

“What are you doing?!”

Derek furrows his eyebrows in confusion and looks down at his dick like he’s not sure either. Stiles’ eyes can’t help but follow. It’s hard and leaking and swollen and red, but the shape is completely different, the head is more pointed and there’s a swelling at the base that Stiles doesn’t remember there being before.

“Your dick is crazy. Why is your dick crazy?” Stiles’ brain snaps back into gear, working frantically to problem-solve (his specialty, after all.) “Your dick is crazy and you have a fever, which you aren’t supposed to have because you are a werewolf and werewolves don’t get fevers. I swear to fuck, one day, we are kidnapping Deaton until he makes us a WebMD for werewolves so I can just type in ‘crazy dick’ and ‘fever’ and ‘crying’-- oh no Derek.” Stiles has known Derek for over a year now, watched him deal with unimaginable pain and heartbreak, but this is the first time he’s ever heard Derek whimper like a kicked puppy. He’s crouched on the floor hugging his knees, rocking back and forth, huge crazy hard-on bouncing and leaking precome all over the place. The image tears Stiles’ heart out. And stomps on it.

“Oh no, Derek, it’s okay we’re going to figure it out.” He helps Derek onto the bed and starts petting his hair, which seems to help. Derek’s breathing slows down and evens out. He even rumbles happily a couple of times when Stiles touches his ears.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on,” Stiles says, when he thinks Derek has calmed down enough to answer. Derek makes a few distressed sounds, but doesn’t speak. It isn’t lost on Stiles that Derek hasn’t said a word all afternoon. “That’s okay,” he soothes, continuing to lightly scratch Derek’s scalp, “take your time.”

“I’m in heat,” Derek finally grits out.

Oh. Well that explains a lot. “What do you need?”

Derek looks up at him with big sad eyes. “Can I please fuck you?”

“Not with that thing,” Stiles blurts out.

Derek looks wounded, and yeah maybe Stiles could have been a little bit less blunt, but they’ve been talking about this and planning this out and Stiles is only on the second buttplug in his anal training kit and just...there’s no fucking way that he could take Derek’s regular not-crazy dick, let alone the (admittedly pretty hot) monstrosity he’s faced with now. He says as much to Derek, who seems to get it. Setting firm boundaries is important for relationships-- Stiles read that somewhere.

He doesn’t stop petting Derek though, running his long nimble fingers through Derek’s thick hair. Derek loves his hands, which--hey. “What if I give you a hand job?”

Derek shakes his head mournfully. “Won’t work.”

“How do you know?”

“Just do. Instinct. Has to be penetration.”

“Can I just fuck you? I know we haven’t talked about it much but--”

“Yes. Oh my God yes. Please.” And then Derek’s flipped over onto his hands and knees canting his hips backwards desperately.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” is all Stiles can manage to groan, because yeah Derek is always pretty fucking enthusiastic, but this is insane. Derek’s ass is insane. It’s tight and muscled but it still bounces a little every time he moves, and he’s whimpering again, whining “please” and “come on Stiles” in the back of his throat. And maybe heats are great because the second Stiles touches Derek’s ass, Derek lets out a long relieved “fuuuuuuuuck” and leans into Stiles’ hand like it’s the best fucking thing in the world. Stiles’s dick is quickly fattening back up as he massages his fingertips into the meat of Derek’s ass.

“Fuck Derek, I could spend hours worshipping this. I could produce a miniseries about how much I love your ass.” Derek surprises him though, and swats his hands away, reaching back to spread himself open. The sight of Derek’s twitchy little pink hole makes Stiles’ eyes widen and mouth go dry.

“Don’t just stare at it. I need you to **fuck me**.” Stiles is pretty sure he’d be able to see Derek’s eyes flashing alpha red if his face wasn’t pressed against the mattress.

“Okay Jesus, give a guy a second. Do you have any lube?”

“Just. Use. Spit. And get inside me. **Now** ,” Derek growls, slurring his words a little bit like his fangs are down.

Loath as Stiles is to give up an opportunity to troll his boyfriend, he puts two fingers in his mouth and coats them in saliva before pressing one tentatively against Derek’s opening. He rubs the pad of his index finger against Derek’s pucker, and just as he’s about to tell Derek that dude needs to relax, Derek’s hole opens around him and pulls him in. And damn, if Stiles thought Derek’s skin was hot...his dick twitches when he thinks about how good it’s going to feel to be buried in that. Derek slams his hips backwards, trying to get more of Stiles in him, but Stiles’ finger is not meant to bend that way and he maybe screams (definitely in a super duper masculine way though.) When Stiles pulls his finger out, though, it’s coated in hot sticky slick that is definitely not his own saliva. Derek’s hole is considerably looser, which was definitely not Stiles’ doing. It’s also sopping wet.

“Dude! You’re self lubricating!” This is the coolest thing Stiles has ever seen. “I fucking knew your ass was a miracle!” He wonders who else knows about this. Is it just a heat thing or an all the time thing? Because damn, if adapting to anal penetration with self-lubrication is an all the time thing, his future sex life is looking pretty fucking awesome. He sinks two fingers back in with a loud squelch, and it’s an easy fit, so he adds a third, tugging at Derek’s rim and giving it a tentative lick. The taste is salty and rich. He thinks it would technically be described as _umami_ but he’s not going to say that because it’s weird and will sound pretentious. He does say that he likes the taste, though, which makes Derek rumble with satisfaction.

Being flipped onto his back _again_ might be off-putting if Stiles wasn’t already pretty used to being manhandled by a hot dude with superstrength and speed, so when he finds himself suddenly on his back, he’s really just kind of amused. Derek is squatting over him and stroking Stiles’ cock with one hand. “Someone’s impatient,” Stiles says with a laugh.

Derek straight up roars-- a dropped fangs, bumpy forehead, pointy eared, disappearing eyebrows, red eyed alpha roar-- and sinks down onto Stiles’ cock. Stiles’ laugh turns into a whine as he’s enveloped in tight wet heat. “What--ohh god-- about--hah--a condom?” Stiles protests lamely, every word coming out a pathetic whine.

Derek just leans back onto his hands, improving the angle, swiveling his hips like a goddamn porn star, and Stiles must hit his prostate, because Derek’s (still huge and hard and crazy) dick starts to ooze with cum.

“Right, werewolf--ahh-- of course. No diseases.”

“Need you to come in me. Need you to fucking breed me.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles squeaks, too turned on and getting his dick ridden to be able to feel embarrassed. He has to close his eyes, because Derek looks fucking _majestic_ on top of him, and it’s too much combined with the religious experience that is happening to his dick. There’s something wet pooling on his stomach though, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that Derek is now pumping out a steady stream of jizz, and it’s getting everywhere, and there’s a lot of it.

Derek is huffing and puffing, panting and groaning and grunting, and the sounds are just a little bit more animal than usual. It makes Stiles’ chest feel full, and before he can stop himself, he’s gasping out, “I love you Derek. I love you so fucking much,” because yeah he’s never said it before, but he _does_. And it’s not just the sex, because honestly, he’s going to have bruises from Derek slamming down too hard on him, the place already looks like the set of a wild bukkake porno and he knows he’s going to have to help do laundry when this is over. But cleaning up messes is what brought them together in the first place, which makes mopping up werewolf jizz romantic somehow.

Technically Derek says “I wish you could knot me...fucking pump me full of your pups” and not “I love you too,” but Stiles is pretty sure it’s the same thing.

 


End file.
